Fear
by Sugar and Migraines
Summary: Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was a mistake... or maybe he really is the Monster in Paris. Rated T for themes. One-Shot.


**This is based off of a deviation by the ever lovely CHERUBIM101 who make this into a comic and I felt the need to write it out for those of you who don't use DeviantArt. Here's the link, read it yourselves (just remove spaces): cherubim101. deviantart art/Fear-1-264400128**

It was dark there, and so cold, cold in a way that made Francoeur feel as though he'd never be warm again. In that cold darkness there was silence, nothing moved, not even the air stirred in that place. The silence was numbing, like a lethargy had fallen over him and Francoeur slowly took his feet, looking for something familiar to guide him home.

"H-hello? Is anyone there?" His gloved hands wrung together unconsciously, nervously running over the press lines in his vest as he looked out into the darkness. He could see in in the vague shadows a silhouette and knew in a heartbeat it was his one time host turned friend.

"Charles! What are you doing, sitting here in the..." Francoeur bound up and then he lost his voice. "Charles... What's wrong? Where are the others? Why is is so dark here?" He reached out to touch his friend's shoulder and jerked back when Charles' arm fell limply to the side, brandishing a wound that should have been seeping more blood. There should have been a puddle... Where was the blood?

Francoeur covered his mouth as his stomach tried to rebel, but he forced himself to breathe, his arms wrapping around himself, "What..."

_'Hee hee hee...Scary... isn't it?' _A voice rasped from the darkness.

"Who... Who's there?" Francoeur spun to look around himself, but he saw no one.

_'Think of me... as your _Friend_.'_

"Then... tell me Friend... What happened to Charles? Where are the others? Are they..." He could not bring himself to utter the thought that they may be dead, as cold and bloodless as poor Charles.

_'The monkey... and your companions... are DEAD!' _The voice cackled in the shadows, from the shadows, and Francoeur realized that they were the shadows, like the very darkness spoke to him.

"What? But... No..."

_'Look behind you, there's that tiny man.'_

"Emile!" Francoeur cried as he spun and saw the tiny body, pale and drawn.

_'It's only logical the weaklings died first.' _If darkness could feel smug then this darkness churned with satisfaction. _'After _that _came the know-it-all scientist.'_

"Raoul!" He was closer, practically at Francoeur's feet, his eyes unseeing, his face bloody, but there was a disturbing lack of blood, the wounds that Francoeur could see should have been pooling the stuff. "But... How?" His voice broke as his friends faces haunted his vision, Charles, Raoul, Emile, the closest thing he had to family. What would he do without them? "Who... Who did this!? Tell me! Please..." Francoeur begged the darkness to speak, and to calm his doubts that maybe... just maybe... it had been...

_'Hmm? Simple... You did!'_ That rasping laugh was back, bubbling from the shadows that drifted like smoke in soft breezes.

"Me? How could I..." As if speaking magic words Francoeur looked down at himself and felt the tacky spill of drying blood, his clothes were ripped and stained, his shirt was soaked red and froze him in the chill.

_'You have every potential to be their murderer. Look at yourself!'_

"What?" He couldn't look away from the blood soaked into the soft white cloth of his glove.

_'You were _so _hungry. That blood doesn't belong to you, you know.' _Francoeur buried his face in his hand's wishing for tears to weep with. _'And after the _great feast _it's natural to crave dessert.'_

"No... please no..." Francoeur could only look where he was bidden, dread building in his stomach as he turned. "Don't let it be... anyone but..."

_'Yes... of course... the woman,' _And she lay there like an abandoned toy, a fragile doll tossed to the ground, her wings plucked, her body broken, and then, like an afterthought, posed like she had stretched out upon the chilled ground to sleep. _'Such a sweet creature. Personality _and _blood...'_

"Lucille!" Francoeur screamed and he stumbled towards her, arms outstretched as though to lift her and cradle her into safety.

_'It was the most gruesome kill...Your desire for her _flesh _was the strongest.' _Francoeur could almost see her there, safe, unharmed, beautiful and smiling at him like he held the moon in his hands. _'You should have seen their faces.' _The darkness spoke and he could see it. _'Terror...'_ Charles was backed up against a wall, his arms raised against the attack, his eyes screaming. _'Disbelief,' _It was Emile's turn, he'd been startled as Francoeur had swept from these very shadows and ravaged his body for the blood that flowed within him. _'Betrayal...'_ Raoul now. He'd fought, as long and as hard at he could, he'd fought, but in the end he'd just looked up at Francoeur, begging him to stop, his eyes leaking tears the way wounds leak blood, and his blood had been rich. _'And heartbreak.'_ And there was beautiful Lucille, trying to claw her was across the cold ground, she'd screamed and Francoeur had fed. The shadows were right, she had been sweet, like fine white wine and autumn air and the taste of preserved cherries.

"Just... Who are you?" Francoeur hit his knees, he couldn't bring himself to sully Lucille further, he couldn't touch her with these hands, these bloody hands, not again.

_'Me? I'm just a Nobody. A Nobody who pities the likes of you... who will remain alone... in this cold... dark... world...'_ And Francoeur screamed.

And then there was light, and there was sound and sight and he scrambled to breath as though he had never taken a breathe before.

"Het Francoeur! Ya doin' alright?" A familiar voice, one he knew quite well actually, and he turned to see Raoul, and Charles, and Emile, they were alive! He hadn't...

"Were you having a nightmare?" Raoul asked, half way hovering over Francoeur's sitting form. Charles cooed in sympathy as he watched the dazed flea.

"See! I told you we should have woken him up when he started whimpering!" Emile growled at Raoul before he turned back to Francoeur. "You fell asleep on the couch and we didn't want to bother you." His smile was small and endearing and Francoeur knew he could never...

"You guys are... here..." Francoeur's eyes were wide with relief, but a swirl of panic crept back in... Lucille wasn't there.

"Huh? Yeah. We're here." Raoul and Emile exchanged quick glances.

"Where's... Lucille?" His voice was cautious as he made to stand.

"Hmm? Thought you knew?" Raoul muttered.

"She's talking to her aunt, the mayor and..." Emile started helpfully but was cut off.

"The pear face." Raoul finished rudely. And Francoeur knew where he need the go and so he went, brushing past Raoul and Emile in his rush.

"Please... oh, please. Let it be a nightmare!" Francoeur prayed as he ran. "Please, god let her be okay!"

"Lucille!" He spotted her up ahead and all that mattered was getting to her and making sure she was safe. HE stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. "Lucille." He'd never noticed how tiny she was beside him. "My Lucille..."

"What has gotten into you Francoeur..." Lucille murmured to him quietly, but when she felt him trembling, standing there, holding here and trying not to break down completely she didn't care. Turning to her aunt she made a small shooing gesture, "Excuse us, we need a little privacy."

Her aunt sprung into action and led the gentlemen from the room, he cheerful voice filing the awkward silence caused by Francoeur's abrupt entrance. "Let me show you to your seat's gentlemen."

With the click of the door handle Lucille sank down onto the couch, holding Francoeur's head to her bosom. "Alright... What's the matter?"

"I... I did something terrible... in my dream." Lucille lifted the hat from his head and smoothed her fingers over his head. "You were all... hurt badly... because of me... I did it..." Francoeur had begun to sob softly as he clung to Lucille. "And I was left... all alone."

"Hush... Hush... It's alright, it was only a nightmare." She rested her cheek on his head and smiled softly, he'd started chirping a bit under his breath. "None of these would happen, trust me. You have a soul... You are such a kind person, you'd never hurt anyone."

"Are you sure?" Francoeur was muffled by the cloth that pulled over her chest, but he looked up at her pleadingly.

"Yes! But if it make you feel better I'll make a promise for you and only you..." Lucille gently laid a kiss above the mask. "I'll _never_ let you be alone." And Francoeur believed her, and he was safe and warm and happy... but it made his think.

_'Who was the voice from my nightmare?'_ He asked himself this as he set his forehead back against Lucille's heart beat, a reminder that it was only a dream. _'Perhaps it was my deepest fear... born within my consciousness... seeking for an answer and sanctuary? Or perhaps...'_

Lucille held him till the shaking stopped, and until his breathing calmed. "Okay Francoeur, we have a show to do." She waited for him to rise. "Francoeur..." She gently shook his shoulder. "Come on... Wake up." Lucille was chuckling as she tried to pry his arms off of her. "Oh well. Looks like I'm stuck then," She muttered as she wrapped him back in her arms and hummed under her breathe to him.

"Lucille, sweetheart! The show is delaying! What's going o-" Her aunt called as she opened the door but cut off when she say them.

"He fell asleep, and I can't wake him up." Lucille murmured, hands stroking his back. "And he won't let go..."

"Goodness..." Her aunt muttered, flushing, aiming to slip back out of the room.

"Right between the- ow!" Raoul was warned of by Lucille's aunt reaching out to hit him upside the head as Emile to a step back onto his foot.

"Sorry for barging in!" Emile offered and allowed himself to be ushered out.

Lucille smiled at their antics and held Francoeur for another moment before she tried coaxing him awake again.


End file.
